Southside Serpents Blood and Venom
by heavyneos
Summary: -AU- Chick gets adopted and grows up in a good place, now he wants to find the Mother who Abandoned him and the Father who never knew him.
1. Chapter 1

Southside Serpents Blood and Venom

The road to Riverdale NY was a long one but it was a road that Charles road happily. When he had turned 16 his parents had broken the news that he had been adopted, at the time he had felt so betrayed so broken as if the main thing that anchored him to his life had suddenly broken loose and the unconditional love he had received from his family that was assured to him suddenly felt different like it was somehow not real. Not in the sense that it was manufactured but that he had been somehow unworthy of the love of his blood parents like he was somehow unwanted when his family had loved him there was this nagging doubt that he was somehow loved and unloved at the same time and he needed to know why.

He had never once doubted that the Jones family loved him, they took him in and loved him like he was one of their own, but he had a yearning to know, so as soon as he graduated Harvard Law he decided it was time, he had secured a position with the prestigious Law office of Crane, Pool & Schmidt in Bostin. After spending time being an intern for a man nicknamed Hands, but Jerry was such a kind man he understood the law in a way Charles could only dream of and his expertise in corporate and banking law was second to none. He had two weeks before his start date and he had already secured a very small but affordable apartment and had with the help of his dad moved some of his possessions into it leaving his most precious positions with his parents and had almost unpacked everything.

He hadn't wanted to use his adopted parents' substantial fortune to secure a better place because he believed in being as self-sufficient as possible and not relying on a legacy that was made by his ancestors even if they are not blood-related.

Charles had one clue to go on, his parents had his original adoption form from the Sister if Quiet Mercy an apparent home for delinquent children that doubled as an asylum and an orphanage witch Charles had thought strange, but he had destination and was headed there on the back of his Chopper the Harley Davidson Shovelhead with stretched forks and sissy bar that just looked like it was moving a hundred miles an hour when it was standing still.

He had spent a summer with his dad rebuilding the bike his dad and dubbed the black beauty, Charles had been surprised that his dad the stoic and plain-spoken man had embraced the Greaser subculture in his youth rebelling against his father who was a veteran of Vietnam and was a very strict authoritarian. He had indoctrinated a young Charles into it at an early age, they had spent several summers in high school fixing his old bike, the same bike he later gave Charles along with his old leather Jacket a beat up and scuffed lancer style jacket that had pike studs he found several weapons in the pockets including a flick knife along with a set of knuckle dusters and a chain with a lock on it.

He had decided to keep the Jacket and the extra when he decided to ride out to the township of Riverdale the apparent town with Pep, whatever that meant anymore, but the ride on the way was worth it, he loved the natural rugged beauty of Rural New York was it was all breath-taking the evergreen forests where especially beautiful in winter and the smell of maple trees got stronger and stronger the closer he got to his destination.

It was a sickly-sweet scent that mixed with the evergreen pine in a way that made even the most expensive of Aude de toilette smell like the bloated repugnant corpse, it was alluring in a way that he could not understand like home but not it was as if the fragrance was a rope pulling him home, it was inviting and appealing in a way that he could not truly comprehend but he loved it, and as he rode past the sign for Riverdale he came to an inviting sight.

As night began to draw in and the sky became awash in deep blues and purples and the ever-present speckling of silver stars burned in the sky becoming progressively brighter as time ticked onward, there was the bright elimination of a glowing red light, it shone a stark brightness that burned the natural light away, it was the neon red of a restaurant that just called out to him like the pied piper to rats.

It was a classical diner 50s styled called Pops Chocklit Shoppe.

Charles didn't know what a Chocklit Shoppe was, but it just seemed right at home.

Charles pulled into the parking lot and into the space reserved or motorcycles and kicked down the stand and turning off the engine. As he dismounted the Bike his legs almost collapsed beneath him, but he managed to catch himself and waited a minute for his lower limbs, all of them, to remember how to function. The pins and needles were an unwelcome annoyance but as he walked around the bike and up onto the step and into the diner.

The brass bell rang as he entered, and it was as if he heard the full choir of angels singing Ode to Joy as the smell of fried chicken danced blended infusing with the beef and pork Charles didn't even notice the proprietor until he spoke.

"we don't get many fresh faces here" the voice was kind and inviting, Charles turned to face the man and was met by a large friendly African American man whose hair had greyed with age, and he smiled a smile that reminded Charles of his elderly grandfather the kind of simile that would put one at ease.

But as Charles turned he noticed the man still for a moment as if he recognised him before he moved to shake his hand firmly.

"it's nice to meet you sir" Charles smiled "my names Charles Jones but my friends call me chuck" the old man stilled once more before smiling again

"yes, I imagine you are" this confused Charles

"I'm sorry?"

"it's nothing it's just you remind me of a kid I knew a few years ago" he said as he walked behind the counter "you look almost the same except for the blond hair and blue eyes" Charles smiled for a second 'so' he thought 'I look like my father' "I'm Pop Tate owner and proprietor of this establishment"

"it's nice to meet you, Mr Tate"

"Oh please" he smiled "call me Pops everyone does"

"thanks, Pops" the man in question smiled again and it was infectious "so what's good here?" he asked

"many things Chuck but I think I have something that you will like"

"Really?" he said as he sat at the counter on very comfortable stools

"Indeed, I feel you're more of a Fried chicken, cornbread, onion rings and an orange freeze kind of guy"

"I do love fried chicken" Charles considered for a minute before he came to his answer "I'll try it" the kindly proprietor seemed to radiate sheer pure joy and Charles could not help but be swept up in his enthusiasm, as the man then practically skipped into the kitchen.

For Jughead Jones the day had gone from bad to worse, his best friend had skipped out on him and his other friend Betty had gone off on some internship, so he was now truly alone. To top this of his dad had started drinking again, and it had finally reached a point where he could no longer stomach the smell of stale beer and vomit, so he had packed up his bags and left.

He had now moved into the Drive-in, luckily the manager had been looking for someone to work the projector booth and he knew Jughead was a film buff as he lived in the trailer park and knew Jugheads situation, he gave Jughead the use of the Booth as a bedroom and even put a cot in there for him.

It had been hard the first few days the quiet and the strong smell of Popcorn was difficult to get used to but getting a full eight hours sleep had been a godsend and he got to choose the films that they showed occasionally, which was a plus as he wasn't stuck watching god-awful Disney all the time.

Tonight, he had shown Enter the Dragon, and while it wasn't his type of film it had brought in a neat amount of cash and even the Southside Serpents had watched the film which was a major plus in his book because if they were here they could not get into much trouble.

Now though, now Pops was calling, and he could practically taste the burger in his mouth already, and he was salivating at the very thought of it, his hands clutching like they were already holding the sacred bun in his hands. he noticed the lone vehicle in the parking lot was a bike the likes he had not ever seen before, he knew almost every bike that the Serpents road by look if not and sound, but this was something new.

He paused for a moment to consider this new interloper into his environment before hunger got the better of him and he made his way into the diner and to his gastric nirvana. His glorious temple to the food gods with whom he adored and Pop was the high cleric. Pops had been his salvation so many times as he grew up, he had even thought about getting a job here, but he would probably end up paying Pops because he would eat all the food instead of delivering it to the customers.

As he entered he smiled at the heavenly ring of the bell that always meant he was welcome, he was welcome here at Pops and always would be. The next thing that seized him was the smell, that wonderful perfume of cooked burgers that saturated the entire building and he practically hovered to the counter so that Pop could take his order.

That was when he saw him the large guy at the Counter playing with his phone, he was wearing a beat-up leather jacket with the hint of a white t-shirt underneath it a pair of faded and well-worn jeans with their cuffs turned up and on his feet was a pair of scuffed up black boots, his brilliantly bond hair was slicked back into a kind of pompadour that Elvis would be proud of, but when he turned around all Jughead could see was his Dad it was as if he had gone back in time and had met the 1950s Greaser version of his dad. His cerulean eyes astonished him he knew that shade of blue but for the life of him, he could not remember where and it gnawed at him, as he sat still staring in the man's direction wondering why this man looked like his Dad.

It was then that Pops made his way out of the Kitchen with the man's order, placing it down on the counter, he spoke to the man but Jughead was still in shock he didn't even notice when Pop moved over to take his order.

"good evening Jugie" Pops smiled kindly making the teen jump in surprise

"Hey Pops" he smiled at the kindly man "who's the new guy"

"he just rode into town Jugie, I haven't gotten around asking more"

"he looks just like…"

"I know" he smiled again before continuing "your usual Jugie"

"thanks, Pops"

Charles had devolved to a state of pure gastric ecstasy a state of true bliss the likes of which he had never experienced before, save one single, she was an Asian goddess, but she had gotten a job on the east coast with a large and very prestigious law firm and long-distance relationships never worked out well for Charles. He would always miss Angela, not just because of their physical intimacy, but she had such a beautiful personality and a wicked sense of humour she resonated with him in a way he never thought possible.

But this Fried Chicken felt like her, he felt like he had come home, it was addictive and he loved it but then it was gone he had reached the end and that saddened him in a very strange way, like a deep part of him had diminished somehow, it was a most curious sensation, and as he finished his orange freeze he came to realise that he was no longer alone in the diner.

There was a teenager sitting a little way away from him two seats to be exact, he was handsome in a Marlon Brando sort of way, Charles noticed he wore denim on denim with a checked plaid shirt and a curious piece of what appeared to be home-made beany hat on his head in the shape of a crown he looked like he could be a baby Greaser in the making.

"Good evening," Charles said with a smile

"evening" the young man nodded to him

Charles turned to Pops with a smile and it was one that the older silver-haired gentlemen knew very well.

"well Mr Tate"

"Pops" the man interrupted with a smile

"Pops" he corrected himself "that was the finest meal I have ever eaten"

"I told you, young man"

"indeed, you did Mr…" he stopped himself "Pops"

Charles stood to stretch himself and work out the kinks in his back, he felt pops run down the vertebrae of his spine like dominos falling in sequence and it felt good, he stretched his neck from left to right and felt more wonderfully pleasuring pops within his neck relieving built up tension there as well.

Charles then sat back down onto the seat heavily taking a moment to get comfortable again.

"I hate to impose upon you Pops but do you know of a motel or hotel I can stay at for a while"

"depending on budget young man the Five Seasons on the North side of town is just two blocks over, if your budget is more modest there is the City Centre Motor Hotel but it's not got the best reputation but those are the two options".

"Five Seasons?"

"yes, it used to be four seasons, but the proprietor bought it and changed the name to five seasons to spite the previous franchise holder" it was the young teen who spoke his voice was slightly deeper than he was expecting with a gruffness of a much older man, he had turned to face Charles in his seat and had finished his Shake.

"Thanks, kid" Charles held out his hand "Charles Jones attorney at law". the teen looked at it for a second before shaking it the grip was firm and the shake a short jerk, but it was a good handshake better than the one he received from the Dean at Harvard anyway.

"How long have you been waiting to bust that one out?"

"you have no Idea." Charles smiled

"I'm Jughead," he said

"I'm sure there's a story there" he watched as the teen nodded slightly "but it's probably personal so I won't pry."

"if you think my nickname is bad my cousins are on another level."

"Oh, now I have to know."

"my younger cousin is pretty much a mini-me, so they call him Soup-head and my other cousin, he's called Bingo."

"who comes up with these nicknames" Charles chuckled, Jughead concealed a smile and a chuckle behind the back of his hand. "I like you kid so if you ever need an attorney for anything here is my card" he had reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a cardholder taking a single card from the pack he handed it to the teen "and you know what this one's on me Pops" he put two fifty-dollar bills on the table "you can keep the change Pops as thanks for the most amazing meal I have ever had." Charles stood up and got as far as the door then stopped he turned back to the duo "Five seasons is the tall building in white yes?" the two nodded before he gave them quick double thumbs up and exited through the door.

Charles looked over to his left then right and found the building he mounted his bike then kick-started the engine revving it twice before he walked the bike back about half a wheel length and turned out of the parking lot to the main street where the 5 seasons awaited him because tomorrow, tomorrow everything for him will change.

The sisters of quiet mercy were a building out of a horror movie, the building seemed to be an amalgam of every secluded horror location transposed directly here, it was foreboding with gothic inspiration that gave the whole structure a nightmarish disquieting feeling that felt like a thousand cold worms crawling up Charles' spine.

The feeling came from a more primal place in his psyche, he was agitated just by being here and he had no explanation as to why that was but something deep within him did not want to be here and if not for his driving need to know he would have steered clear of the place altogether. The whole building seemed to conger images of dark goings-on and twisted mad science made to boggle the mind and violate all morality.

Charles took a deep breath to steady himself before he walked up the stone steps and into the main lobby. He hated that the lobby down to the stone patterned floors up to the pillars looked like the overlook hotel as if the place wasn't enough of a breeding ground for nightmare fuel the crone behind the receptionist kiosk looked like a reanimated corpse, hesitantly he made his way towards her.

"Excuse me," Charles said as he gently nocked the desk trying to get her attention

"what do you want" the voice was about as smooth as sandpaper and as welcoming as a hungry wild bear.

"I have an appointment to see the sister superior"

"what time?" she asked as she pulled out a very large book she opened the book flipping to the correct date.

"10:00 am."

"Name"

"Charles Jones" she looked up at him then ticked the book

"take a seat she will be with you shortly" she indicated to a seat with the end of her fountain pen.

"thank you kindly" he smiled before taking a seat.

Charles waited for what felt like an eternity only the heavy mechanical ticking of the clock indicated otherwise, and it was that heavy ticking that began to build tension within him like a coil that was slow with each tick winding itself taut.

"Mr Jones?" the new voice that shattered his concentration came from a middle-aged woman whom he assumed was a nurse of some kind.

"Yes"

"Please follow me the Mother Superior will see you now." The smile didn't quite reach her ears and there was something plastic and artificial about it as if it was a practised mask that she wore only for new people and it set Charles slightly on edge.

There was a faux sincerity that just seemed to permeate the whole building, like bad air the whole place stank like something was very, very wrong.

as he was lead deeper and deeper into this mausoleum he passed what for the patents in this living nightmare, it was as if the place had excavated within the shadowy part of his psyche where his horrors dwelt and disgorged the here for the world to see.

they stopped before a plain wooden door that had been painted white and the nurse knocked before opening it for him, the room was plain and had an orange carpet that reminded Charles of autumn leaves.

The sister superior sat with her back so ridged Charles thought that she must have had a broom handle up her back helping her up, her hands were intertwined and sat in front of her on the desk.

But the one thing that made Charles uncomfortable was the almost life-sized crucifixion statue of Jesus that loomed over the whole room.

"Mr Jones" she stood and held out a hand, he shook it and it was cold and clammy and left his hand feeling as if he had some form of viscous fluid he had a very powerful urge to wipe his hand on his jeans. "it's not often that we see a former resident here, how the sisters of quiet mercy may help you?" an unnatural smile wormed her way across her face.

"I am looking for information on my adoption" she nodded and motioned for him to continue "I would like access to my records so that I may contact my Birth parents."

"we should be able to help you with that, your birth mother requested that your adoption remain open against our protests and better judgement." She walked over to the feeling cabinet to her immediate left and opened the lower draw, she spent a few minutes going through files before he found the correct one. "here" she said handing him his birth certificate "your mother's name is Alice Smith and your father is listed as Forsythe Pendleton Jones II."

"they weren't married"

"no, from what I understand your parents were in High School when you" she gestured

"I Understand" he sighed and felt tears begin to swell "may I have this or a copy" the woman nodded taking the paper and leaving the room for a moment. He took a few calming breaths and felt the hot tears fall down his cheeks as he began to wipe them away from the mother superior returned with the copy.

He thanked her and made his way out trying to control the flurry of emotions that raged within him tears still falling down his cheeks, as he straddled his bike he looked at the crumpled paper again he had their names now, his next stop would logically be the Library, but he needed time to control himself. Charles folded the paper and placed it within the breast pocket of his Jacket kick-started his bike taking a moment to draw strength from his bike before riding back into town, he never saw the young pregnant girl watch him ride away from a window covered in bars who dreamed of a happily ever after.

It seemed like an instinct that drove Charles to Pop's diner as if some unknown force had pulled him to the restaurant but as he pulled up to the place he felt his stomach rumble in need. He didn't even realise that he was there until he had commandeered the booth nearest the door and sat with his head in his hands trying to process what he had learned from the sisters.

He hadn't even realised that he had ordered food until it appeared on his table with Pops kind face smiling down on him offering all the comfort his advanced years could offer as well as the wisdom of years of experience that only came with age. Charles devoured the food like a plague of locust on corn crops.

As he finished the orange freeze Jughead returned and sat at the counter, he seemed very tired and looked like he could use some advice, putting aside his own baggage for a moment he took the stool next to the teen.

"hey Jughead" the teen turned, and Charles was surprised to find that he had a black eye and a split lip, "holy shit kid what the hell happened?"

"Oh, you know jocks," he said trying to handwave it away.

"what did they mistake you for a football or something"

"or something" the teen mumbled

"you should call the cops kid" Jughead looked up "seriously, this is assault"

"they won't do anything believe me" Charles got the distinct feeling that this happened to the kid allot.

"ok kid I won't push" he felt bad for Jughead

They sat in silence for a while before Pop appeared and placed food down for the teen, that seemed to brighten him up with each bite and when he was done they sat in silence once again.

"so, I never did ask," said the young man turning to face Charles "What brings you to the town with Pep?" Charles sat there for about 5 seconds wondering how to answer before he decided to be honest with the kid.

"I'm looking for my parents." he said simply, "I have names and from what I understand there both local and very young when I was born, I want to see if there still local so my next step is the town records at the local library"

"Well good luck with that," said the Teen as he finished his freeze "I got to get back for my shift at the Drive-in, stock taking the gift that keeps on giving"

"yeah, have a wonderful day at work," he said as the Teen got up and left.

There were no records room in the library nor any electoral rolls they had placed them all within the Town Records office and they only accepted appointments. But there was one thing that the Library had and that was back issues of the Riverdale register and to make it even better they were all digitised so Charles spent the next few hours trawling through Alice Smith's misspent youth which was allotted.

Breaking and entering, arson, assault, speeding along with suspected drug dealing the paper had pegged her as a habitual criminal and gang member of the Southside Serpents her mugshot was also in the paper. She looked very rough with a black eye, split lip and a bleeding nose and she was projecting pure attitude in her stance and her eyes screamed rebellion. Then he got to the year he was born and she suddenly didn't appear again until Graduation from Riverdale Highschool and she looked vastly different, her hair was straightened and gone was the punk rock biker look instead she wore pink pastel and was hanging off the arm of a square-jawed football star named Hal Cooper.

Then jump a year and she was in the paper again this time getting married to said Hal Cooper then another jump of three years and the Register introduced the newest reporter into their ranks one Alice Cooper.

Charles concluded that Alice had a falling out with Forsythe the 2nd sometime during or after his birth and then gravitated away from her past life to forget the ordeal and fully changed herself into someone new to accomplish that. He wondered quietly to himself whether in some way he was the cause.

His, on the other hand, seemed to embrace the outlaw lifestyle in the same amount of time but after graduation he had joined the Army in time for the Iraq war where he served with distinction until he was honourably discharged, during his service he had been awarded several medals for distinguished service and acts of valour over and above the norm. he appeared again in the paper getting married to one Gladys Brown, he appears regularly in the paper for drunk and disorderly as well as several arrests for such.

It seemed to Charles that his farther zagged where his mother zigged and they became the opposites of each other one became a straitlaced reporter obsessed with forgetting or destroying her past and the other became a gang member and army vet that embraced his darker side and seemed to revel in it.

It took a while for Charles to process this, in some way he believed that he was somehow at fault.

Charles made his way to the information desk to speak with the Librarian, she was a short woman with a greying blond beehive and horned rimmed glasses, she wore a deep red wine-coloured shirt that clashed violently with the lime green lanyard she wore around her neck. She looked to be around the mid to late sixties and very stern her face seemed to be welded permanently into a scowl that could curdle milk.

"good afternoon," he said as he approached she raised a very imperiously drawn eyebrow. "do you have the address for the Register?"

"it's the third office building on the main street as you exit here and walk down on the left."

"thank you."

It was a bright afternoon given the time of year and the temperature was perfect for a walk, working the kinks out of his neck Charles started towards the Register.

It didn't take him long to reach the office but as he came closer to the feeling of anxiety just seemed to increase almost exponentially the only thing that gave him pause in his anxiety was the strange sight of two blazing red headed teens driving past in a deep red Chevy bel air convertible, wearing clothes so white they could blend in with snow and made their red hair even more stark against it.

As he watched them pass blaring sickly-sweet pop music and drinking in each other's company in the way that lovers do Charles mustered his courage and entered.

-End-


	2. Chapter 2

The door of the Riverdale register was deep red and opened easily with the push with no squeak or sound which would indicate that the proprietors of the register took great pride in both their work and their presentation to those who came into the offices.

The offices of the Riverdale register were a pale blue in colour and smelt very faintly of lavender, the door open the sickly-sweet smell of Riverdale herself and the lavender smelled so much like home the price smile Charles face. There were four desks arrayed in a two and two configuration, two deaths on the left of the office and to desks in the right, the computers were old and out of date pieces that had the large bulky monitors of an early 00s windows machine coupled with a large base station whose loud whirring fans reminded Charles of his own days in his high school library.

The desks were made of solid wood that up to be a highly polished and well-maintained mahogany they were documents that had been stacked in perfect rows with not a single sheet of paper out of place. But that was only true of one of the desks the other three were a different story, to the desks had no documents or any form of sign of occupation, and the only other one that did was a complete mess documents arrayed all over it in the slapdash manner pencils and pens with no order organisation to them and draws that look to be overflowing with paper in a variety of colours from yellow to pink sticking out with the corners bent and twisted your manner of different ways.

The back of the office there were several bookcases that had all manner of books all of them seem to be weighty tomes that must be therefore research purposes Charles thought as he looked around the office. He noticed that on the walls were arrayed several older issues of the Riverdale register which included the first ever issue of the register. The paper had apparently started out at a British broadsheet size and over the course of time had changed to a more standardised US broadsheet.

The headline on the front page was about the battle of Midway in 1942 and how a young Navy pilot by the name of Forsyth Jones and his wing man Pendleton Mason to local boys the distinguished service Cross. Pendleton had apparently received a purple heart with two clusters and Forsyth had apparently a purple heart with no clusters. They both served on the USS Hornet as naval aviators and apparently looking forward to "slap some Japs", the story had gone on to detail how they were southside boys making good during the war.

Charles can read any further because he had been interrupted by a strong yet undeniably feminine voice.

"Good afternoon." Charles had jumped slightly in shock as he turned to see just who it was who and made him jump he stopped in his tracks. She was beautiful her age had done nothing to wear away at her natural beauty, she looked to be around 5 ½ feet tall with shining aquamarine blue eyes that looked like two shining jewels, her hair was a deep golden colour that cascaded down her shoulders in loose wavy curves. She wore a pale pink blazer with a white cotton shirt and pale grey trousers with a pink belt.

"Well?" Charles took a few moments to engage his brain enough so that he could answer.

"Hi" his voice quivered ashe managed to force out the word lamely, she quirked and immaculately sculpted eyebrow in response.

"Welcome to the Riverdale register, now what you want" Charles never felt so overwhelmed in his life not even during the bar exam he felt so completely overwhelmed, here she was his mother in all of her glory and he could not summon any of the words in his vast vocabulary, he felt completely and utterly out of his depth.

It was utterly amazing how this 5 ½ foot tall woman could suddenly in Charles's mind have all the size presence and strength of a Tyrannosaurus rex.

"Charles" he managed to stammer out quickly "is me" he stammered out again before taking several deep breaths in a vain effort to calm himself down "my name is Charles, Charles Jones."

"Well Mr Jones is the newspaper not a café if you don't have a news story or an application form for a job here with a previous article you've written then I'm afraid that you have to ask you to leave."

Charles panicked and rushed out all his words at once.

"My name is Charles and I'm your son." The whole world stopped in that precise moment.

Charles was processing exactly what he just said, it all seemed to disgorge all at once like that, he sounded like he was a gibbering madman he had not meant for it to all just drop out of his mouth like some form of audible word salad that was all mixed together. He started to panic that he seemed to come across as some type of psychopath we want the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"What!"

"My name is Charles Jones and I'm your son." He repeated it slower with much more emphasis before continuing "I was adopted from the sisters of quiet mercy in 1993, I was raised by Damien and Sheila Jones in upstate New York and I am a fully qualified attorney with the law firm Crane, Pool and Schmidt."

They both stood in silence for a minute before she sat in her chair, her eyes visibly moistened, and the tiniest pinprick evidence of tears began to manifest themselves within those shining blue eyes. She reached up and took hold of his hand he squatted down to be eyelevel with her.

"My little chic" she whispered, it was somewhat shocking to see this fierce and powerful woman suddenly turn introverted and turned back into an unsure 16-year-old girl with a baby on the way and with no one to turn to. He didn't even realise he was crying along with her until they were suddenly embracing on their knees together bleeding human emotion as for the first time in 25 years mother and son held each other.

It was as if a dam had burst and sign will tenuously a large part had been missing from Charles's life and suddenly in found again unconditional love he had been searching for that pure emotion in this one moment felt worthy.

They had spent felt like mere moments embracing before his mother and he broke the hug she gently touched his face running her thumbs gently across his cheekbones staring into his eyes as if she was trying to commit to memory every single blemish and detail of his face.

Similarly, Charles himself who was memorising every aspect of her face as well, where her eyes shined slight king otherwise arise settle age lines that lightly touched her mouth and, in that moment, Charles realised in his very soul that this woman, this was his mother his real biological mother the woman would carry him within her womb burst him was here he had never felt more beloved.

Is not to say that he felt loved by his adopted parents, but this was something much different he couldn't articulate it properly could perceive it, he could almost feel the difference it was like the difference between cotton and silk.

They spent the next hour or so talking about their lives but how Charles had been raised what type of people the Joneses were where he studied what he wanted to do with his life everything they sat and they talked, Alice told Chuck about both his sisters though she mainly focused on Betty his youngest sister who was infatuated with the neighbour one Archie Andrews and she articulated her dislike of the boy, but with Polly his older younger sister she was very brief as if she had done something to upset Alice quite badly and Alice couldn't tell him about it either through shame or through anger.

Charles didn't really want to go into it as a subject seem to be very sensitive to his mother, and Charles didn't really want to speculate about it either as it was apparently a deeply personal matter to his mother and he did not want to upset her in any way.

Betty was apparently a gifted writer according to her mother she could be the best journalist in the world, like New York Times good future Pulitzer prise good. But apparently, she was also very gifted in Sleuthing, apparently his mother had put that down to her obsession with Nancy Drew and Sherlock Holmes in her youth.

She also told him that Betty was taking Adderall medication to deal with her attention deficit hypertensive disorder. She was sure that everything fine in the end.

For the first time in a long time Charles was sure he had made the right decision, about Riverdale and this small quest to find a family he knew nothing about.

-End-


End file.
